abandoned eden
they climbed over the fence to the garden of Eden, they bought a packed lunch with them
a blanket covered in cat hair
the garden was overgrown
the fruit was rotten
dogs ran wild
they made a mental note to write a one star review when they got home
Eatmorewords's Blog 
the local news station sent a drone over the garden recently
Stokely Carmichael and Eldridge Cleaver were visible
they were discussing the values of adherence
to Christian virtues
barely ambulatory
their feet destroyed
LIFE BECOMES AN ACCIDENT OF TIMING
“I” alone can no longer speak for all the voices
when I wave at angels
they ignore me
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OLD NEWS:
the Eden Garden is full of melodramatic anecdotes
proof of God and his eyes
proof of Man and his eyes
no one dared to joke
that Satan was surefooted
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outside Eden
the birds sound like cash registers
tiny biting insects
locally known as “Biting Betties”
( named for their Bette Davis eyes )
distort reality with their painful bites
——————————–
Bob Dylan stacking layers
of hardened skin
he had removed
from around
his wing portals
—————
the same Bob Dylan
who told Jazz musicians to bypass Dark Town
the same Bob Dylan
who put the cinema of his life into lyrics
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literature has its roots in the lives
of Adam and Eve and Noah
puppets on a planet that they named themselves
the folly of the human condition
driving fast at night with the windows down
the vision of a better world
momentarily flashes by
the tires constantly arguing with the road
oppressors pressing down on the oppressed
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the sky was full of drones
flying detectives like flies with a million eyes
Eldridge & Stokely & Huey
three points of a pyramid
– not aligned to any constellation they saw angles with machine guns
an accident of timing, a wrong turn, a new type of lo fat sandwich spread, uncomfortable moments in the barbers chair, that book you just can’t finish, the news of explosions & football scores
imagine if birds had human penises
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God had Eden
Satan had a pleasure park of rollercoasters and themed clothing
(the quests were long
the merchandise over priced
the hot dogs cold)
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outside Eden the traffic stretched for miles
– cars full of screaming children and half eaten fruit
– cars full of fuming parents with half price vouchers stuffed in pockets –
—Dylan said he didn’t want the award then Dylan collected the award
it sits on his mantlepiece
– people make choices
– directionally challenged individuals walking around lost
no one knew Bette Davis had cataracts
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“let the physical self go
the tail with the hide”
the holds that hold
brain cells that carry images
“pay-offs”
———
———
readers expecting something
to happen
something to justify living
———
———
time spent—not simply being
nouns become verbs
somehow suiting proper conduct
the inaugural was fun
lawful in grade school
without debt or crime
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immense preparations—Noah and his preparations
genesis of A-Z, refining creatures on an individual basis
endless animal cycles —at last man arises
self-exploration—a white towel bulging
desperately defensive
proper satisfactions in shame
the urge being uncontrollable
————————
————————
a constant need for exercise
showering in the gymnasium
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THEY CARRY THEMSELVES
WITH A HIGH HORSE
countless eyes
watching
———-
———-
the calculating God machine
both internal and external
circus animals suffering melancholy
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DETECTIVES WITH BAGS OF SURROGATE SECRETS
sometimes code words are everywhere
blackbird, mockingbird, red robin
some agents savor weighing the words
men willing to crack the tough nut
——————————————
nothing picturesque with that smell
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LOST FROM THE FLOCK
individuals walking around lost
workers sleeping on their feet
Flarf bouquet boy on the evening news
making everybody crazy
with the randomness
of word choice
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metallic nouns
SHE couldn’t produce anything solid
———————————————-
The ARK was a double-edged symbol
(+) God destroys and builds
(+) Man builds and destroys
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the same Bob Dylan
who put the cinema of his life into lyrics
SPARE THAT POET
wooded flesh and wooded bone
baptism with a clean blade
everything masculine-feminine cut away
mythologizing technology
mythologizing that crazy whale
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IMAGINE IF BIRDS GOT PREGNANT
they would swell up
and be unable to fly
sitting there watching
the harsh reality
around them
———–a newly fashioned nest
no old twigs or weedy rough
everything fresh—natural and organic
a full-formed elaborate home
completely out of view
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the Hopi natives were selling $20 hotdogs
to curious white people
they told me to hoist-up beams
and push them in place
WHO WAS I ?—–A BARN-BUILDING AMISH MAN ?
I went to the top of the soil
where Hopi call home
I was expecting a cosmic kaleidoscope
not ancient appliances littered
like lawn tombstones
I was shocked by the ugliness of it all
small children competed with dogs
for displaced hotdog buns
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All the books in the library
stated that they were cosmic
in touch with the Secret Chiefs
I thought—-they poop like animals
never take a bath
I think the calculating God machine
has made a mistake
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Bob Dylan stacking layers
of hardened skin
he had removed
from around
his wing portals
he was happy to help
hoist-up their beams
to set their studs
mallets and hammers
and day-old hotdog buns
it was just all one giant pleasure
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Bob Dylan mythologizing electric guitars
mythologizing that crazy whale
having made his fame and wealth
from opposites
and alternatives
it was never safe to sit close to him
fast-flying knives and poisonous darts
****the popcorn vendors disliked all Jews
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the birds left the nest
flew the roost
exited the branch
you get the picture?
tactical use of words
undercover meanings exposed in x-ray lights
you can’t draw a scent
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– the list of the animals
from 1 to 1,000 all the way from A to B – massive animals
and smaller ones cowering in their shadow –
– cross species falling in love but
all lost in translation –
initial sparks turned sour
– like warm milk
curdled
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( you leave Eden and go straight down
Pennsylvania Avenue to Arlington National Cemetery )
they claim the Kennedy children were beyond adorable
but they always wore gloves
even at the beach
****National Tattler claimed that they had alien fingers
————————————————-
“Daddy, I can’t sleep”
the drumbeat of the long funeral march
poets in DC had to change their phone numbers
after the president was shot
the kitchen staff at the white house
set one less plate
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——————just think—————-
an exclusive school for children with alien fingers
(+) right before you go to sleep, wishing you knew
more about Noah, your real father
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the heart and soul
the breadth and depth
of a playacting soul
the unedited life of a poet
mostly naked on the Ark
looking out portals
at a world of black and white
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lost from the flock
alone on the moor
the grass up to the ankles
slightly damp small animals and if captured by a painter you would be just small speck
– a little blob
– a scratch on the lens
failed attempts to catch the words
random butterfly patterns
Your net is to small
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( the same particles make the biggest things that make the smallest things )
what do we produce that’s worth anything?
the cash cow
milky money teats
the cycle of destruction
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I REMEMBER SHERLOCK MARCHING INTO THE ROOM
like Mick Jagger on rooster steroids
and screaming,
“It’s not the size of the particles…it’s the size of the glue”
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without a proper explanation
I would like to stroke that crazy whale
share a feeling of unreality with Leviathan
mimic only a limited scenario of lovemaking
enough to make a sober man stagger
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bologna on day-old hotdog buns
cheap yellow mustard
Bob Dylan in large rubber diaper pants
no longer permitted outside the compound
National Tattler desperate for a photograph
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I never collected the coveted monkeys
that escaped from the anus
of Bob Dylan
I saw him one day
dangling dangerously on the rim
of the commode seat
bubbling fizzy sounds from the backside
I instantly looked away and thought of other things
bright pink flamingos and 800 birthday cakes
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grounded pregnant birds
fashion nests from supermarket trolleys, old car parts, dead computers
– if they are unable to fly are they still birds?
– do they still function?
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the discrepancy between what bird hormones
desired
and what the intelligent bird brain knew was best
there were no trophies or blue ribbons
for producing eggs
——————–
the nest had the smell of Yardley’s English Lavender
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you were playing badminton with a lady friend
and SHE had to excuse herself to pee behind a bush
later you noticed that her shoes were wet
it was a very romantic moment
SHE was just one of many friendships
——————————————-
later when you put your hand inside her
it felt like imitation leather
large and generous
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interrupted by doorbells and clock chimes
pharmaceutical curiosity
the mind-set of Japanese lanterns
predatory people outside
thieves and muggers
lewdness of all manner
old hookers
walking around on chopsticks
LATER
lying together on a flat mattress
when her wig slipped off
you went limp
lying together on a sleeper sofa
her teeth slipped out
you went limp
sometime in the middle of bewilderment
her grandchildren came in and watched
as you made her bones creak
****probably every man pondered how far
the circular staircase went
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interrupted by loud knocks on the door
detectives wearing itchy tweeds
peering in the windows
were alarmed by the collection
of pharmaceutical bottles
—————————-
her long legs were really chopsticks
a tan undergarment
turned out to be an Italian truss
bundles of tissue wrapped in plastic
padding for the ugly bulge (?)
LATER
lying on a camouflaged rug
she asked if you had removed her plug first
you went limp
her granddaughter waltzed in
wearing Carter’s Spanky Pants
and flashy leather Mary Janes
she promptly said,
“I can see your business”
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one of your friends writes a poem
about how hard it was to remove
a Playtex eighteen-hour bra
siblings of poverty
start out that way
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birds laughing at human females
removing long-line girdles
with built-in garters
metal fasteners
impossible to unsnap
they watched as lovers
splashed in the shallows
like Adam and Eve
they seemed so unhinged
pink-cheeked children
waiting to be harvested
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SHE could barely stand
unassisted
I thought of her as the “Chopstick Lady”
the golden rule was:
skim the fundamentals in order
to achieve a momentary “splash”
SHE was the stuff of actuality
not the stuff of daydreams
****I once found a sign-up sheet in her pocket
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he had talent
and would probably
have achieved considerable
fame
had his feet not been melted
to the surface of Hell
from the ankles down
a pink grilled cheese sandwich
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the Hopi hotdogs were stored for future profit
for the time of the revival
when people will seek that “authentic” taste,
a return to Amish barns,
to analogue tape
——the rebirth of the cool ——-
the wastelands that replaced the cosmic kaleidoscope
those wastelands
dogs sniffing at each other’s butts
crawling babies disappear in the undergrowth
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the books didn’t contain the words
the library was dusty
flickering light bulbs
that book you refused to read was feed to the bulls
– two days later they passed
new flarf
– I need a new direction
She was a broken compass
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Amish Dylan rejected his electric sound –
acoustic Dylan in the wooden barn with his pillbox hat
proud of the wood he had sandpapered
– the small cabinet build to hold the skin and hit dog buns
Amish Dylan had never been this happy
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electric was the Devils work making idle hands busy
– he turned his back on fame but kept one eye open when he slept –
it was never good to sit near him
he carried knives and knew harsh cuss words
the popcorn was cold and got stuck in his teeth
but he knew he could make song from it
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alien fingers that caressed miles of broken skin
the adorable offspring
of famous people
dead
or murdered or somewhere in between
a national pastime of joining the dots
looking a Cuba through a telescope
the cigar smoke conspiracies
the Florida coast on standby
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she counted her fingers daily just in case one disappeared over night
plucked from the knuckle
a tree felled in the woods
the carbon underfoot
10 foot of shit and animal bones
your birth certificate said MICHEAL MICHEAL
origins UNKNOWN
ten fingers
nine toes
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the lighthouse on the horizon
didn’t spot the ark
on the horizon it wasn’t caught in its beam
naked under clothes
the portal was open the water flooded in
were there fish in the ark or did they just swim alongside instead?
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my origins KNOWN
———the loins of Noah
not openly acknowledged in life
the DNA of the Lord
they say that I survived
that I drank the distillation
and lived
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the famous recluse of Amherst, Massachusetts
says that the fish were inside the Ark
that nothing survived outside the Ark
——here, things get three brain cell retarded
Satan had his own Ark (the Dark Star)
everything worth saving
he stored on the Dark Star
after the Flood
he returned with his Family of Renounce
his alphabet of evil ready to make print
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sickened personalities in a sickened society
the alphabet of evil in short pants
ready to make print
readers asking for the depersonalized stuff
poetry of craftsmanship
not that crap confessional
words in trousers
beautifully pressed
———————–
“LOOK UP HERE I HAVE WINGS”
color photographs of autumn trees
on all the covers of poetry books
****one of those suicidal female poets
once claimed she saw Robert Frost
fingering a large pink sea shell
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to achieve a momentary “splash”
a simple hobby from youth
assaults on the penis
prolonged taxiing
discarded tissue
visible from
outer space
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misspellings hang out in Dark Town
identifying misprints everywhere
————————————–
cusswords leap out with viperine energy
showing no concern for rules or rule books
————————————–
the smell of fried chicken
human cruelty in the color of flames
————————————–
the struggle between daytime fear
and nighttime fear
bloodstained cooks in the kitchen
eat some flesh
eat some bone
lonely sad thin animals moaning
fish with tears gushing from their eyes
Satan rules the plate and cutlery
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go to church
but leave your manhood at home
go to the library and hide
permit the battle to drift past
————————
the library
as an old derelict
on unfamiliar cement
one could smell the books
roasting in the fireplace
unanswerable questions
unspeakable answers
****Yul Brynner’s face on the paper money
printed for the state of Kentucky
(+) the root function of language
(+) denial is the wound opened
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the DNA of the lord
small bits of flesh on the splinters of the cross
all available online
– all descended from the same source
– the body of Christ now comes glutton free
have you seen the museum at Leviathan?
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the alphabet hasn’t changed but the number of words continue to grow
– continual evolution of both word and meaning –
—I REMEMBER WHEN THE WORD BAD STARTED TO MEAN GOOD?—
everything was upside down
– like living in Australia
when seashells washed up on shore
———-
she didn’t meet up with me instead she watched Netflix for three days straight – she told me she didn’t blink once
‘case she missed something
angelic wings were clipped
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prolonged attacks on the population under the guise of medical experimentation –
they fingerprinted me but found out I didn’t exist…
– no records of birth
– no schooling
– the doctor who was there had no recollection of me
————me
——–no recollection of
– maybe if I spent 243 days in space I’d have a different outlook than
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a misprint in the map saw the tourists lost in dark town
– the grid reference was two digits off — they ended up in the centre
– the tourists took photos of shop fronts, overflowing bins, war veterans in wheelchair out side Abercrombie and Fitch,
smashed bottles near the fountain of youth
– I was in the Tenderloin where she lost her sunglasses
they black and scratched
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sometimes the only light I see is from the xerox machine
while I copy a picture of Solange beating up Jay-Z in an elevator
stuck between floors –
– when I was younger I wanted to be on the cover of an Iron Maiden album
– all rappers have ridiculous names
I am filled in a database which contains the names of all the people who completed Ghost and Goblins
all my records were stored in a shed and are warped and damp
I am going back to bed just so I can wake up again
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the lesson today was on “our unknown selves”
——-disruption of identity
abandoning illusion for reality
TOPICS DISCUSSED:
(+) the blue-black bulls
(+) being raised a male witch
(+) abducted by aliens
(+) a member of a cult
(+) fascinated with anything religious or sexual
(+) love the word “sodomy”
(+) the reality of sodomy is a different story
(+) never had a Puerto Rican boyfriend
(+) am not German but remember being German
(+) am not Jewish but remember being Jewish
(+) love the word “jism”
(+) the reality of jism is kind of scary
(+) God is watching: Life is theatre
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individual reality has limits
it cannot sleep beside the campfire
only in the shadows
trapped within sociological generalizations
it becomes dust or mud or anonymous jazz
the male poet finds his primary self
an odd codpiece (often exaggerated in size)
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everyone in the circle
had contempt for history
and historical process
machines assume that identity is a product
privately, machines make jokes about history
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I overheard machines
discussing traffic signs
as being sins of the fathers
visited on their children
CONSEQUENCES
visited on the children
———————
terms of sin and guilt
out there on the highway
colors and shapes
****accuse/condemn vs. defend/rescue
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machines love to joke
about humans using the restroom
“the horribleness of the situation”
all that time and no modifications
pee and poop like animals
enough said
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bathroom functions
to see and feel them artistically
machine generated suggestions
offering a certain liberating catharsis
———————–
the low ceiling
of actual possibilities
————————
the morass of one’s daily condition
two-facedness
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i was caught by a machine for going to fast
another machine sent me a letter
there were no fingerprints
or DNA on the paperwork
–my children will grow up in a world
of robots and machines doing all the heavy lifting–
player piano vonnegut future
the highway did indeed stretch for miles
like an elastic band pulled until it becomes
transparent and see through
just before it snaps
just before we all snap
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•Otis men in an elevator, the soothing sound of jazz
•not Jewish but circumcised
•evidence from the landing site
•the dead carcass of the black bulls
•halos
•waking up with a repeating phrase in your head
•loss of control at 65mph
•bouncing babies at the playpen
•the poem that had 174 likes
•an essay on religious iconography in the songs of Bob Dylan
•back to basics with the Amish
•festival fashion for the super rich
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limited reality
a head full of concrete – people with no imagination need computers to assist
to plant memories & ideas**
– ideas in the shadows
– that old campfire song cast shadows on tent canvas
**computer memories lack taste
computer memories lack provenance
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machines only knew the history that was programmed into them
– names and dates
– lack of context
machines had little concept for time
no machine stood in a trench
no machine smoked a French cigarettes
all future wars will be
death from above
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machines have no time for ablutions –
a reboot
a cleansing then
they are just put on standby
– they wait
like a sniper
they wait
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THE MINISTRY OF THE MACHINES
machines as the inheritors of the future
quiet on the outside
extremely Pentecostal on the inside
humans loved them and now they return the love
unlike humans who failed to fulfill the law
they will succeed in receiving the savor’s blessings
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a machine once asked me about
THE STAIN OF SIN
I could only answer as a white male,
“the stain of sin has something to do
with how I will behave with love
toward others—no matter
how they behaved toward me”
the machine then asked,
“because God is cruel
does he exhibit the stain of sin ?”
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machines write poetry about the pleading of the blood
hospital machines find it difficult to relax or sleep
they are engaged in a battle with death
a battle that only ends in failure
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an important machine generated thought:
LIFE CANNOT BE REDUCED TO BIOLOGY
Sunday school fails to prepare one
for the impending horror
at the end of the sentence
——————————
love-hate memories sleeping in the grave
the value of one tablespoon of tender mercy
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the machine can only react to a set of preprogrammed responses –
zero free thought – & imagine how life could be if it was a series of YES NOs – flow chart existence where the moral compass is stuck at NORTH –
I knew she wasn’t a machine
I saw her sweat
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going to Sunday school with the stains of Saturday night
– that feeling in your stomach
of impending horror
– reading a book of stories
made up nonsense
fish for thousands
eating his body
when can I hibernate?
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the machines built machines that built machines that built machines – nonstop –
the machines built the machines we use to build future machines – the love they give is like the live of a reluctant step father
cold & distance
obligatory and expected
– no warmth in the cold metal
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on the front of his trousers
that’s a stain
the stain of sin
easily washed out at a high temperature
– no need for divine intervention
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going to Sunday school
encouraged to paint, sculpture, and sing
old bedsheets nailed over the windows
given Kool-Aid and Dollar Store cookies
I wasn’t old enough to kiss
but I found myself kissing
SHE was much older
with thick armpit hair
I loved how nutritious
her lips tasted
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I recall from Sunday School
that we are never
to yield the mountain passes
to the enemy
I have no idea what that means
————————————–
when asked what color my eyes were
I replied, “there is no color—only loneliness”
the priest thought I was gifted
at spreading fertilizer
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